Annabel Oromoni: Why Chimamanda Adichie's Fight for Answers Should Concern Every Nigerian

As I sat in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the faint scent of hospital disinfectants and the soft beeping of life support machines, I couldn't help but think of Annabel Oromoni. Her story, like many others before her, serves as a poignant reminder of the unyielding quest for truth in the face of institutional silence. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's son, Nkanu Nnamdi Esege, was just 21 months old when he passed away at Euracare Hospital in Lagos, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and a family fighting for justice.

The story of Nkanu's death is a familiar one in Nigeria, a child dies, a family asks what happened, and the institution at the centre becomes an actor in the contest over truth. The language of denial, carefully crafted statements, and legal manoeuvring become the tools of choice for institutions seeking to shield themselves from accountability. Euracare Hospital has denied any wrongdoing, while Adichie and her husband, Dr Ivara Esege, have alleged medical negligence. The coroner's inquest, which should have served as a fact-finding process, has been delayed due to legal uncertainty after Euracare approached the High Court.

In Nigeria, we have become accustomed to institutional defensiveness, often at the expense of truth and accountability. Families like the Oromonis and the Adichies must navigate a labyrinthine system, chasing records, preserving evidence, hiring counsel, and managing public opinion before they can even begin to get close to clarity. We have normalised grief as a contest of stamina, where families must outlast delays and public fatigues before their voices are even heard. This is not a story of a grieving mother or a hospital defending itself; it is a story of a system that has become adept at silencing those who seek truth.

In November 2021, my younger brother, Sylvester Oromoni Jr., died after what our family has consistently described as a bullying-related incident at Dowen College in Lagos. His name became known across Nigeria, and his face circulated on timelines. His story sparked a national conversation about bullying, school accountability, institutional responsibility, and children's safety. But before he became a case, he was just a child, loved in the ordinary and intimate ways that only family can provide.

As Nigerians, we often expect grieving families to remain composed, to ask their questions with measured tone and precision. We expect them to respect the institution's boundaries, to avoid speaking out, and to allow the system to unfold at its own pace. This is an unbearable expectation, one that ignores the very real pain and trauma that families like the Oromonis and the Adichies endure. It is this expectation that we must challenge, that we must re-evaluate, and that we must change.

• Nkanu Nnamdi Esege, Chimamanda Adichie's son, died at Euracare Hospital in Lagos. • Adichie and her husband, Dr Ivara Esege, alleged medical negligence. • Euracare Hospital denied any wrongdoing. • A coroner's inquest has been delayed due to legal uncertainty.

It is imperative that we, as a society, demand accountability from our institutions. We must create a system that allows families to seek truth without fear of retribution, that allows them to ask questions without being met with silence or denial. We must normalise the language of truth, of accountability, and of justice. For Annabel Oromoni, for Sylvester Oromoni Jr., and for all those who have lost loved ones to institutional silence, we owe it to ourselves and to them to create a system that values truth above all else.